NEW FRIENDS
A brakeman passed down the aisle and commenced to light the lamps, and
Randy peeping from the window saw that the stars were shining. She knew
that at home old Snowfoot and the cows were under the shelter of the great
barn, and that father and mother and dear little Prue were seated around
the table. Tears filled her eyes and she quickly drew the curtain and
began to look about the brightly lighted car with the hope of seeing
something which should hold her attention and thus help to dispel the wave
of homesickness which swept over her.
An old lady with a kindly face turned just in time to see Randy's
handkerchief at her eyes, and she hastened to speak a word of comfort.
"Traveling alone, dear?" she asked so gently that Randy forgot to be
surprised, and she bowed her head in assent in place of the word which,
for the moment she could not speak.
"I thought so," said the old lady, "but don't cry, your friends will
probably be at the depot in Boston when you arrive, will they not?"
"Oh, yes," said Randy, "but it isn't that. I was thinking of those I'd
left at home," and away went the little handkerchief again to her eyes.
"Ah, that is it," said the sweet old voice. "Well, the homesickness will
wear off after a time, and now in regard to to-night, your friends will
doubtless be waiting when this train gets in, but if by chance they are
not, you shall come to my home with me until we can get word to their
address that you are in Boston."
"Oh, how good you are," said Randy.
"I am only doing what I would have some one do for my daughter in a like
position," was the reply, and looking up, Randy saw a beautiful light in
the kind eyes which looked into hers, and without a word she laid her
hand in that of her new friend.
"Boston! Boston!" shouted the brakeman, and with a start Randy found
herself suddenly upon her feet, and with the other passengers making her
way toward the door.
The great train-house, the crowd, the trucks loaded with trunks and bags,
the lights, the noise and bustle so confused Randy that she failed to see
the face for which she was eagerly looking.
"Do you see your friends?" asked the gentle voice, but as she stepped upon
the platform she was rejoiced to hear her name called by the voice which
she so well knew.
"O Randy dear, you did come didn't you?" and for a moment Helen Dayton
held her young friend closely; then she noticed the old lady who stood
smiling at what was so evidently a happy meeting.
Hastening toward her, Helen extended her hand as she said,
"I am so glad to see you, Mrs. Seymour, are you acquainted with this dear
friend of mine? I thought you were conversing when you stepped upon the
platform."
"We have had no introduction," said the old lady, smiling, "but we became
acquainted on the car just before we reached Boston."
"And she promised to take me to her home if you did not arrive," said
Randy.
"I am glad that I was prompt, that you might know how eager I was to see
you, but had I been late, I could have asked for no kinder friend, or more
charming home for you, Randy, than this which was so sweetly offered you
to-night."
After formally introducing them, and thanking Mrs. Seymour for her
kindness, Miss Dayton led Randy through the depot to a side entrance,
where her carriage stood waiting.
The coachman opened the door, and soon the little country maiden was being
whirled through the city streets, and the blaze of lights from the huge
store windows caused Randy to ask in wide-eyed wonder if there was
"anything special going on."
"Oh, no," said Helen, "the streets are brightly lighted every night, and
the people are walking, hurrying, rushing back and forth, looking into the
windows of the great stores, as eagerly as if the doors were open for
customers; then hastening away to some place of amusement, or to their
homes."
Randy leaned luxuriously against the cushioned back of the coupé, and with
her hand in Helen's, she continued to watch the hurrying throng, and to
wonder vaguely if there were a sufficient number of houses to shelter them
all if they happened to think of retiring.
After what seemed to Randy to be a very long ride, the carriage stopped.
Together they ascended the broad sandstone steps, and as the butler opened
the door, the soft light in the hall showed the glowing red of the walls
above the carved oak wainscoting, and the odor of flowers floated out to
greet them.
Then down the stairway came a beautiful old lady, whose grace and dignity
bespoke the grand dame, as with gentle courtesy she moved toward Randy,
extending her hand in greeting. Without waiting for an introduction she
said,
"My dear, I am sure that you are Randy, and I am going to tell you that I
am Helen's aunt, and that I think I have been as eager to have you with us
as Helen has been."
Randy placed her hand in the one extended toward her, and looking frankly
up into the fine old face she said,
"It is nice to have you so glad to see me, will you let me love you while
I stay? I think I cannot help it."
"While you stay, and always," was the quick response accompanied by a firm
pressure of the young girl's hand, and Randy felt as if at once among
friends.
Miss Dayton who had been giving the coachman instruction in regard to
Randy's trunk, turned in surprise to see her aunt and Randy engaged in
conversation.
"I waived the ceremony of an introduction," said the elder woman with a
smile, "and I do assure you, Helen, that we are already quite well
acquainted."
"While I thought Randy was just behind me waiting until her belongings
were safely housed," Helen answered with a gay laugh, for she saw at a
glance, that her friend had found favor in Aunt Marcia's eyes; those
discriminating eyes which never failed to recognize the frank and the
true, or to detect the sham, however skillfully concealed.
"How lovely she is," thought Aunt Marcia, as Randy with Helen ascended the
staircase toward the room which was to be Randy's own, during her stay in
Boston.
"How handsome your dear old aunt is," said Randy to Helen, as they walked
along the upper hall. "Her hair is like the frost, and her eyes just
twinkle, twinkle, like stars when the night is cold."
"Why, what a pretty thought," said Helen. "Aunt Marcia was a great
beauty, and a portrait of her when she was presented at court, hangs in
the drawing-room. Sometimes I think she is even handsomer now, with her
fine gray eyes and waving hair. If you are pleased with her, Randy, I
assure you that she is delighted with you; and now here we are at the room
which is to be yours while you are with us."
"Oh, what a lovely room," cried Randy. "Roses, pink roses on the walls,
and real roses in the vase on my table, and such a dear little bed. Why,
the quilt has roses on it, too! 'Tis like a fairy tale, and makes me feel
like a princess. Oh, if mother and father and little Prue could see--"
Again a sob arose in her throat, although she bravely repressed it.
"Not a tear to-night, Randy dear," said Helen, "but instead let me tell
you what will cheer you, and make you feel nearer to them all to-night.
This little desk is for your use, and all your letters home will be
written here, where you will find paper and pens and ink awaiting you.
Now, would you not like to write just a little note, saying that you
arrived safely, and Thomas shall post it, so that it shall reach its
destination as soon as possible. You are too tired to-night to write much
of a letter, but to-morrow you can write twenty pages if you choose."
"And if I did, in all the twenty pages I could not tell them how much I
miss them, and yet how glad I am to be here," said Randy. "Isn't it odd to
be glad and sorry at the same time?
"Well, I'll write the little note now, that they may receive it as soon as
possible."
"And when it is written, come down to the hall where I will meet you, and
when we have given the note to Thomas, we will have dinner."
"Dinner!" said Randy, "why I thought everyone had dinner at twelve
o'clock!"
"In the city we have dinner at six, and lunch at one, and never a supper
at all," said Helen, smiling at Randy's frank look of surprise. "To-night
dinner will be later, because your train was delayed, and I wished you to
have time for your note."
Randy hastened to write the little letter, and then proceeded to freshen
her toilet, and when with the envelope in her hand she tripped down the
hall where Helen stood waiting, she looked every inch the fresh, sweet
Randy of the New England hills. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright,
and the soft little ringlets curled over her temples in a manner most
bewitching.
Oh, how grand the dining-room looked to the girl who had never seen
anything finer than the parson's house in the country village.
The dinner was a simple one, but to Randy the room with its fine
furnishings, the rare flowers in the centre of the table, the noiseless
tread of the servant with his silver salver, the soft light from the great
chandelier, all seemed a part of the fairyland of which she had so often
read in the old volume of "Grimm's Tales" at home.
It was remarkable, however, that with all that was new and beautiful about
her, Randy seemed as much at ease as if always accustomed to her present
surroundings.
So innocent was she in her frank enjoyment of all the beautiful things
which she saw, and the absence of affectation in her manner made her
sincere admiration so delightful, that Helen felt that Randy was even more
charming than when they had last met, and Aunt Marcia completely
captivated, at once decided that never before had a young country girl
appeared to so great advantage when transplanted to a city home.
After dinner Helen sang some pretty ballads for Randy, and Aunt Marcia
told with evident delight reminiscences of her youth.
Randy admiring the full length portrait of the dear old lady as she had
appeared in earlier days, looked frankly up in her face and said,
"You were lovely then, but I think you are grander now," which of course
delighted Aunt Marcia.
When at last Randy lay in her dainty bed, the light from the great street
lamps shone across the room, and on the wall before her, she could see the
rose vines upon the paper, and counting the blossoms, she fell asleep.
When the sun came in at her window, Randy awoke with a start, and turning
toward the little clock which ticked upon the table she was surprised to
find that it was quite time to dress. When Miss Dayton had told her that
breakfast would be served at eight, Randy had wondered at the lateness of
the hour, remembering that at home, seven o'clock was considered to be as
late as any energetic person would think of breakfasting.
"To think that I shall have just time to make myself presentable, and at
home I should have been awake long ago, and by this time have dressed Prue
and myself and have eaten breakfast. Whatever made me sleep so soundly?"
On the stairway she met Helen, and together they entered the dining room,
where before the crackling fire in the grate stood Aunt Marcia, waiting to
greet them.
During breakfast, Helen proposed a drive to the shopping district when she
could make a few purchases and at the same time show Randy the wonders of
the great stores.
"The school will not open until next week," said Helen, "and we will make
this week a succession of little pleasure trips. We will visit the places
of interest and endeavor to make you wholly at home in our city, and
before school opens I shall invite some of the girls who will be your
classmates to meet you, so that on the opening day you will feel that you
have some acquaintances in the school."
At ten o'clock Randy seated beside Miss Dayton in the coupé, was riding
through the city streets and feeling the wildest excitement as she saw
other fine carriages threading their way among scores of pedestrians,
hurrying throngs passing in and out of the great stores, electric cars
and carriages, and indeed everything which was new and strange to her.
While Helen and Randy were driving about the city, an animated
conversation was in progress in a home not far from Miss Dayton's.
The leader, was a tall, slender girl of about Randy's age, whose dark eyes
spoke of truth and loyalty. She made a graceful picture when having
braided her long, dark hair she proceeded to tie it firmly with a bright
scarlet ribbon.
"Of course I shall call upon her," she was saying. "I wonder that you ask
such a question. She is Miss Dayton's friend, and that, in itself, is
enough to make me wish to go. Miss Dayton is all that is lovely and I
would do much to please her; but aside from that, this girl is a stranger
and I am asked to give her my friendship. I shall call upon her the day
which she has set, and I shall go intending to like Miss Randy Weston."
She gave the ribbon a determined twitch and a tactful person would have
considered the matter settled, as Nina Irwin usually meant what she said;
but Polly Lawrence was as tactless as she was fickle, which was saying
much, therefore she persisted in her questioning.
"Isn't Randy a queer name, Nina? No name in particular is it?"
"Very likely her name is Miranda, and Randy is just a cute little pet
name," said Nina. "Some people might question if Polly was much of a name,
when you were really named Mary, and here is Margaret whom we all call
Peggy, much to her disgust."
"That comes of having brothers," remarked Peggy. "No one ever thought of
calling me anything but Margaret until Jack started it, and every one
seems bent upon doing as Jack does. Even Polly has decided to wear nothing
but red, since that is Howard's color. Alas! My big brother is turning
things topsy turvy, when every friend I possess is wearing red,
regardless of the color of her hair or complexion."
"I've _always_ liked red," remarked Polly, "and as to this call, I suppose
I shall make it. No girl can afford to offend the beautiful Miss Dayton,
as it might mean the loss of some fine invitations."
"I intend to please Miss Dayton because I like and admire her, and not for
any invitations which I might otherwise miss," said Nina. "In her kind
little note she speaks of Miss Weston as charming, and if she charms Helen
Dayton, she surely will be able to interest me."
"We might call together," remarked Peggy, with a lazy little drawl. "If I
promise to call for you, Nina, I shall surely get there, you are so
energetic."
"I'll call for you, Peggy, and together we'll call for Nina," said Polly.
"I confess I've no great interest in a country girl, so, if I'm going,
I'll go with you, and perhaps the three of us will be able to make the
call a bit lively."
"I, for one, anticipate meeting this friend of Miss Dayton's, and as she
asked us to call on an afternoon of this week, I think we might go
to-morrow," said Nina.
Accordingly on the following day, the three girls sat in the reception
room, each wondering just what Miss Randy Weston would be like.
"Do you fancy that she is light, or dark? Let's guess, girls," whispered
Polly, but at that moment Miss Dayton entered with Randy's hand in hers.
With a bright smile of welcome, Randy extended her hand to each girl as
she was presented, and as Nina gave the hand a cordial pressure, Randy
said,
"I am so glad that you have come, because you see I have left all my
friends at home," there was a little tremor in her voice, "and to find new
friends here, will make it less lonely when I enter the school next week."
"You have gained three friends to-day," said Nina, "and when we meet at
school you will soon know all the other girls."
"We could call for you on the first day," ventured Peggy, completely won
by Randy's sweet face and frank manner.
"Oh, if you would," said Randy, with such evident delight, that Polly more
than half wished that she had made the suggestion.
How they talked and chattered that afternoon, and when the three girls
took leave of Randy and Helen and walked briskly down the avenue, Nina,
with twinkling eyes, said to Polly,
"I think she is one of the sweetest girls that I know, and Polly, did she
seem _very_ countrified to you?"
"Now, Nina," Polly answered in a crestfallen tone,
"Who knew that she was a regular beauty, and who for a moment supposed
that she would be dressed like a city girl?"
"I said that if Miss Helen Dayton called her charming, I had no doubt
about it," said Nina, "and I am willing to say that she is even more
pleasing than I had imagined."
"It is her pretty, truthful manner that makes me like her," said Peggy,
"and I mean to be her friend while she is here."
Miss Dayton had seen at once that Randy was making a pleasant impression
upon the girls, and wondered if Randy was equally pleased with them.
"Well, Randy," she said after the girls had left, and together they stood
before the fire-place.
"Oh, I liked them," was Randy's quick reply. "They were so friendly. I
like Nina Irwin best, but they were all so pleasant that perhaps I should
not like one better than the others."
"Nina has always been a favorite with me," said Helen, "and as you really
liked the others I do not see that it matters that of the three Nina is
the favored one.
"They were evidently pleased with you, so you see you already have three
friends for school and two for home, for Aunt Marcia and I claim your
dearest love."
"Oh, I love you best," said Randy, "I care for you next to the dear ones
at home."